


aching hearts (tired souls)

by imalivebecauseirondad



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, At least in my opinion, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Pepper Potts, Hurt Tony Stark, I think?, Minor Natasha Bashing, Minor Steve Bashing, Nightmares, Peter isn't actually in this fic but he haunts it like a ghost, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Needs a Hug, idk this is sad, it'd be ooc without the bashing so, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalivebecauseirondad/pseuds/imalivebecauseirondad
Summary: Nebula stares at him for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” she finally tells him. He sighs, trying to shove away thoughts of curly brown hair and wide brown eyes and a boy that was full of innocence and good who had his life ripped away from him.“It’s not your fault.” He struggles to stand up, and she helps him up. He rubs his hands together, trying to ignore how they’re shaking. There’s no time for that right now. Right now, they have to work on the ship, get them back home, back to Earth, back to Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and May.(He tries to ignore the fact that they might be dead, for all he knows, because if he lingers on it for too long, he’ll break. He’s already lost a child. He can’t lose any more.)If he works enough, then maybe he won’t have to think about Peter.
Relationships: Nebula & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	aching hearts (tired souls)

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up in the middle of the night a week ago with the title of this fic and then I had to come up with a fic to actually use the title for.

Tony can’t breathe.

It’s like there’s a weight on his chest, stopping him, _crushing_ him-

And then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and there’s Peter, eyes warm and full of concern. “Mr. Stark?” he asks uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

Tony nods, drawing in a breath. It’s a little easier this time. “Just peachy,” he assures him, looking around. They’re in the Compound’s living room. The lights are off, and they’re sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of him. A movie - Big Hero Six - is playing on the TV in front of them, its soft glow the only light in the room. Peter’s settling down next to him, shooting him glances every moment or so.

Everything’s fine. This is normal. They have movie nights all the time.

So why does it feel so _wrong_?

Someone shakes his shoulder.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says. His voice sounds different - more harsh, a little robotic, even. When he looks to his side, the teenager is looking at him with a blank face, the barest hint of urgency in his eyes, which is _wrong,_ because Peter is the most expressive person he knows. His hand is firmly gripping his arm, and he shakes him again. “You have to wake up.”

“What?” he asks, confused. _Wake up?_ He’s already awake. And if he’s dreaming, he doesn’t want to leave. Even if something feels wrong, there’s an undercurrent of safety, of _home,_ that he doesn’t want to abandon. “What do you mean, kid?”

“Wake up,” Peter insists, his grip getting tight enough to spark a twinge of pain. He tries to shake his arm out of his grip. He can’t.

“Peter?”

He stays quiet for a moment. “Tony. Wake _up."_

Peter never calls him Tony.

And then his hand is flaking, turning to dust, drifting away as the rest of him starts to dissolve. Tony tries to grab him, tries to hold him together, but it’s not _working_.

And then all of a sudden, there’s a wind howling through the room, whipping everything around, drowning out all noise, and when it finally dies down, Tony’s on a red planet, surrounded by dust, and he knows with a dreadful certainty that the dust is all that’s left of Peter. Of his _kid._

“ _Tony!_ ”

He’s jerked back to reality with a gasp, mind still stuck on Peter’s ashes caking his hand, and it’s a minute before he’s able to focus on the blue blob hovering in front of him. He blinks a couple of times, breaths coming out fast and shaky, and it morphs into Nebula’s face. He knows her well enough by now to see the concern in the way she firmly presses her lips together, the way her eyes dart all over his body, the way her hand twitches, like she wants to reach out and comfort him but doesn’t know how. “Bluebell?” he rasps. His voice sounds rough to even his own ears.

“Yes,” she says, in that harsh voice of hers. “Are you...okay? You were twitching. You kept repeating a name in your sleep.”

“Peter,” he murmurs, reaching up to rub his face with a shaky hand. “Where’s Peter?”

Nebula looks at him, almost pitying as she opens her mouth, but he already knows the answer before she says, “He’s gone, Tony.”

The grief comes back with a sharp rush of pain, and he has to scrub away tears in his eyes. “It was - he was so real,” he says. Before, he wouldn’t have dared to tell someone about his dreams after only a couple of days. But Nebula is different. She understands pain, _knows_ pain intimately, has lived with it her whole life, and being stranded on a spaceship with her has made them close.

Nebula stares at him for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” she finally tells him. He sighs, trying to shove away thoughts of curly brown hair and wide brown eyes and a boy that was full of innocence and good who had his life ripped away from him.

“It’s not your fault.” He struggles to stand up, and she helps him up. He rubs his hands together, trying to ignore how they’re shaking. There’s no time for that right now. Right now, they have to work on the ship, get them back home, back to Earth, back to Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and May.

(He tries to ignore the fact that they might be dead, for all he knows, because if he lingers on it for too long, he’ll break. He’s already lost a child. He can’t lose any more.)

If he works enough, then maybe he won’t have to think about Peter.

Nebula places a hand on his wrist gently, hesitantly, and he tries not to flinch. It’s not her fault. It’s just - he can’t _not_ flinch. “Tony?” she asks, worry flashing across her face, and he hates himself for being the cause of it. He tries for a smile.

“Come on, Neb. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Pepper knows that everyone is worried about her.

Rhodey tries to make her rest, tries to make her lie down and close her eyes and sleep for more than a couple of hours. He fails.

(She can’t sleep in a bed that’s too cold, too empty without the familiar weight of Tony on her other side. When she does, she only wakes up shaking and filled with dread.)

Happy doesn’t try to stop her, but he brings her food and always reminds her to take care of herself. She doesn’t listen, but she appreciates the effort. And the food he brings is always delicious.

She spends all her time working on helping people who’ve been displaced or orphaned or lost their homes after what’s being called ‘The Decimation’. After people watched others turn to dust in front of them, leaving no trace of their existence. They need help. They need someone to step up and take charge, and who better than Pepper Potts?

(She wonders if, somewhere in space, a boy named Peter Parker had no one but Tony to hold him while he flaked away. She wonders if Tony was all alone, with no one to watch as he turned to dust and drifted away in the wind.)

When she isn’t busy, she’s thinking about Tony, and that hurts more than she can bear.

So, she works.

She works, and she hopes that somewhere, her family is finding their way home.

* * *

When his mind isn’t occupied with thoughts of Peter dying in front of him, he’s thinking about Pepper.

Rhodey and Happy and May, too, of course. But mostly Pepper.

He thinks of her smile, of her eyes, of the way her hair sometimes drifts in front of her face and she tucks it behind her ear. He thinks of the way she stays up for him, holds him and calms him down after a nightmare. He thinks of the way her lips feel on his, of the way her hand fits perfectly in his, of the way her eyes light up when she sees him.

He wonders if she’s thinking of him, too.

He sits in one of the seats at the front of the ship. Nebula tells him that’s where Gamora used to sit. Her voice is full of raw grief and pain when she mentions her sister’s name, and he’s reminded that he isn’t the only one who’s lost.

He gazes out into the infinite abyss of space, and thinks of a time when the stars used to haunt him.

_Peter used to love the stars._

The thought brings a fresh pang of pain with it, but for once, Tony closes his eyes and lets himself think of Peter. They used to sit up on the roof of the Compound sometimes, and he’d point out the stars and constellations to his kid, and Peter's eyes would shine with awe as he told them their stories.

_“That’s Hercules, he was a really big guy in Ancient Greece. You know about him, right? Well…”_

_“That was named after one of the minor Greek gods, and became one of the zodiac signs. You know his story? My mom used to tell me this one sometimes…”_

_“Oh, that one’s interesting, but it’s also sad. Ursa Major was made because of this girl…”_

The only time he felt safe looking up at the stars was with Peter at his side to temper the fear with his excited questions and quiet gasps and thoughtful silences. Eventually, he was able to look at the stars with only a hint of fear, and would fully appreciate their beauty.

Now, it’s impossible to escape the stars. When he looks at them, all he feels is pain. Their beauty is tainted with the death of his kid. He wonders if Peter was reincarnated as a star, like the teenager had once told him a story about. His eyes find a star that shines brighter than all the others, and a crumpled copy of a smile ghosts his lips.

_There he is._

* * *

Pepper is cutting vegetables in the kitchen when they enter.

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.

She hasn’t seen them in two years, not since they both stabbed Tony in the back and turned him into a shell of the man he once was. She feels a bright burst of anger when she looks at them, reminded of all the times Tony would wake up gasping and begging, _Please, Steve, no, stop,_ and the way he would flinch whenever someone jokingly told him, _Watch your back_.

“Pepper,” Romanoff greets her, like the past two years haven’t happened, like she _didn’t_ stab Tony in the back and break his trust.

“Romanoff,” she acknowledges, before ignoring them. She sees Rogers open his mouth out of the corner of her eye, but Romanoff nudges him, and he stays silent. She puts all of her energy into what she’s doing. The knife hits the cutting board with a tap.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

She thinks she finally understands why Tony’s always so calm in his labs. Working out there, helping others, it helps, but it’s different to be doing something with your hands. When you’re done, you can step back and look at it and think, _Wow. I did that. That’s all me._ It’s nice to be doing something with her hands.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

She wonders what he’s doing right now. Knowing him, he’s building his way home. She thinks of Peter. She doesn’t know him very well, but in a way, she does, because he’s just like Tony. She imagines them, side by side on an unfamiliar planet, working on something to bring them home. The thought almost brings a smile to her face.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

After a couple of moments, the silence is broken by Romanoff clearing her throat. “We saw what you’re doing for others,” she says. Her platinum blonde hair barely reaches her shoulders. “It’s good of you.”

“Well,” Pepper replies, with a completely insincere smile, “I try to do my best to help others. It’s nice to see them happy instead of _alone_ and _broken_.”

Rogers winces at the thinly veiled contempt in her words. “I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing his beard. He looks weary, but that doesn’t matter to her. He did much worse to Tony.

“We shouldn’t have hurt Tony,” Romanoff chimes in, and she seems genuinely regretful, but it’s hard to tell with her. She wants to yell at them, wants to tell them that they don’t _get_ to call him Tony, they don’t _get_ to act like they care about him, but that’s never been her style. She finishes chopping the last vegetable with an especially loud thud.

“Too little, too late” she tells them, before leaving. The room is silent in her wake.

* * *

Tony decides that they should play a game.

“A game?” Nebula repeats, confused. He nods.

“A game. Come on, it’ll be fun!” He’s trying to cheer her up, and he thinks it works, because she spends the next few hours with a smile on her face. It cheers him up a little. She deserves to be happy.

When they get to work, they manage to figure out a way to reverse the ion charge in the cracked fuel cells. They manage to buy themselves about 48 hours of flight time. It feels good to be in control of the ship. Nebula shows him the controls, and soon enough she’s guiding him through the vast expanse of stars.

Eventually, though, like all good things, it comes to an end, and they’re drifting again, with no way to know how long they have left.

“Eat,” Nebula reminds him, sitting next to him and handing him a packet of some of their last “food”. He takes some of it and offers it to her, but she pushes it back. “You need it more.”

He wonders what will happen when he dies, hopefully from lack of oxygen. It’s the most merciful way to go right now. Nebula will live longer than him, but she’ll be all alone. She’s been alone for most of her life. He doesn’t want her to die that way, too.

He doesn’t have much time left. He might as well as say his goodbyes.

He places his helmet in front of him and flicks a switch, waiting for a moment before speaking.

“Rhodey,” Tony says, leaning back against his chair. He grins, or at least tries to. “Remember that time in MIT when we broke into the labs after curfew because I forgot my homework? You were so pissed when we nearly got caught, and you swore that you’d go to sleep the second we got back. Then you stayed up the entire night helping me write that goddamn essay because I was shit at writing them. Those were good times.”

He sighs, gazing out into the stars. Normally, he’d feel fear at the sight. Right now, he’s numb.

“You were one of the first people I considered family, you know. You and Jarvis and my mom. You guys were my family for a really long time. I thought I could include Stane in there, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way. I’m glad I never trusted him fully.”

He pauses, then lets out a long breath and rubs his face.

“I’m so tired, Rhodey,” he admits, feeling a ridiculous urge to cry. “I just want to _rest._ Is that so hard? But the universe loves to hate me, I guess. I’ll try and stay awake for as long as I can. For you. For you and for Pepper and for Happy. Peter’s gone, now, or else I’d stay awake for him too.” He feels a pang of pain at the reminder of his kid, but he focuses on the mental image of Rhodey. Of his brother. “I’ll miss you when I’m gone. Love you tons, Platypus. Over and out.”

He reaches out and switches the helmet off, and hopes that it’ll reach Rhodey. More than that, he hopes he’ll never have to see it, but he knows that’s impossible. Tony needs to record a message for Pepper, too, but he closes his eyes for a moment, giving in to his exhaustion.

When he opens them, Nebula’s crouching next to him. “You were sleeping for a few hours,” she tells him, before he can even ask. He nods.

“Okay.” He picks up the broken helmet and struggles to stand, and she helps him up, until he’s leaning on her for support. He gazes at their shadows. They look almost like a single person. “Could you give me some privacy for a while? There’s something I need to do.”

Nebula studies him for a second, before giving him a quick, abrupt nod. She steps away from him and watches him make his way to the flight deck. He looks out of the window. It’s night.

* * *

Rhodey finds her sitting on the edge of their bed, holding his picture in her hands. She’s just gotten back from holding a press conference after a busy day of meetings and work. She hasn’t changed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking a seat beside her. His presence is strong and steady. Pepper lets herself soak up some comfort from him, before brushing away some stray strands of hair.

“I’m fine,” she tells him. She can feel him studying her, can sense his doubt, but he nods. 

“Okay.”

They sit together in silence for a while, just breathing. Existing. The only light comes from the open window. The stars twinkle brightly against the dark canvas of the sky. “I miss him,” she says suddenly.

“I know,” Rhodey says. “I miss him too.”

She brushes away a tear. “It’s just - it’s not fair. If he...you know. If he died. He shouldn’t have. And I’m scared. What if he did? What if he just flaked away, all alone? Or what if he was killed before that? And what about Peter? What if-”

“Hey,” Rhodey says gently, and she realizes with a start that she’s crying. “He’ll be okay. You know what Tony’s like. He won’t rest ‘till he gets back home.”

She wipes her eyes. “I know. I still worry, though.”

He sighs, looking out at the stars. “I do too.”

* * *

Tony kneels in front of the broken Iron Man helmet. Looking at it reminds him of his loss, but he swallows the bitter feeling of regret and pain, trying to ignore the thoughts of a boy who had his life ripped away from him and _apologized_ for it.

 _That’s my kid,_ he thinks, despite himself. _Always apologizing for everything._

He would give anything to hear his voice again.

Shaking his thoughts away, he reaches out and hits a switch. A light blinks, and he stares directly into the helmet’s eyes.

“This thing on?” He waits for a moment, lets the helmet scan him, and then he leans back with a sigh. “Hey, Ms. Potts. Pep. If you find this recording, don’t post it on social media. It’s going to be a real tearjerker. I don’t know if you’re ever going to see these. I don’t even know if you’re still…” He pauses and swallows. The thought hurts too much for him to finish. “God, I hope so.”

 _I hope you’re alive,_ he thinks. _I hope you’ll be okay._

“Today’s day 21? No - 22,” he corrects himself. “You know, if it wasn’t for the existential terror of staring into the literal void of space, I’d say I’m feeling a little better today. Infection’s run its course, thanks to the Blue Meanie back there.” He smiles, thinking of Nebula. “You’d like her. She’s very practical. And only a tiny bit sadistic.”

He wonders what she’ll be like when - if - Pepper hears this. He pictures her crying, then tries to imagine her without the tears, because that hurts just a little less.

“The fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge. Bought ourselves about 48 hours of flight time. Problem is, that was about...49 hours ago.” Tony feels...surprisingly okay with dying. He doesn’t want to leave his family, but he doesn’t think he can live a life without Peter in it. “Which means we’re dead in the water. A thousand light years from the nearest 7-11.”

He hopes that’ll make her laugh. He tries to imagine it. The image brings him some comfort.

“Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning, and...that’ll be it.” He sighs. “And Pep, I know - I know I said no more surprises. But, I gotta say, I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like…” He pauses, then grins wearily. “Well, you know what it looks like. Of course you do. You always know everything. Don’t feel bad about this. I mean, if you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt...I should probably lie down. Please know that when I drift off...and I’m fine, totally fine, but...when I drift off…” He leans forward and pokes the helmet, imagining it’s Pepper. He smiles softly. “...I’m gonna dream about you.”

He switches the helmet off and lies down on the floor. He isn’t sure if he’ll wake up ever again. Tony closes his eyes and thinks about Pepper. He thinks about her smile, the soft curve of her lips whenever he says something especially idiotic, the way she’s only told him “I love you” a few times but lets him know in every other way. He thinks of Rhodey and their times at MIT, the way they always eat all the candy they can on their birthdays until they get sick. He thinks of Happy and his gruff way of letting others know he cares about them, the way he’ll moan and complain but always be there whenever he needs him. And last of all, he thinks of Peter, remembers his smile and the way he lit up whatever room he was in with it, and how he never hurt someone if he could help it, of the time he once cried in the back of the car because he accidentally kicked a dog midswing.

He thinks of his family, and he rests.

(When he wakes up, there’s a woman floating in front of their ship. She takes them home, and he has to remind himself how to breathe.)

* * *

Pepper’s watching TV when it happens. The remote on the coffee table starts shaking, along with everything else. Behind her, something falls onto the floor with a crash. She turns around and sees that it’s a vase.

“What’s going on?” she asks herself, running to the window, and then her breath catches in her throat.

It’s a ship. It’s a ship, being guided towards them by a glowing woman, and all she can think is, _Tony._

Somehow, she makes it outside, and she watches with tears in her eyes as the ship lands on the ground, its landing gears deploying as it reaches the ground. An entry hatch starts to open, and she runs towards it, Rhodey at her side. She catches sight of Tony’s face and stops in her tracks, heart in her throat.

It’s him.

Rogers runs past her, towards Tony, and she feels a sudden rush of white hot anger, because he doesn’t get to be the first person her Tony sees when he comes home. And then Rhodey pushes past him and helps Tony stand up, and she finally unfreezes and starts running towards him.

(She tries to ignore the fact that there should be a teenager with him. She fails.)

“Is, uh…” she hears Tony says, and it takes all of her willpower to stop herself from bursting into tears. He doesn’t need that right now.

(She thought she’d never hear his voice again.)

“Oh, my god,” she says, looking at him. There’s love and grief and mind-shattering loss in his eyes, and she hugs him tightly, pulling him close soaking up his presence, trying to take away his pain. “Oh, my god.”

He’s _here._

* * *

Tony closes his eyes and soaks up Pepper’s warmth, basking in her presence. For once, he’s able to forget about Peter, for one small moment.

He breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 comment = 1 hug for both of them
> 
> come find me on [tumblr](https://a-cannibalistic-elephant.tumblr.com/) if you want to yell about these two!


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